


Keep Me in Your Dreams

by TheMarvelousMadMadamMim



Series: Softly and Tenderly, We Begin (Hackle Summer Trope Challenge) [7]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Almost Kiss, F/F, Hackle Summer Trope Challenge, Week 7, the slow burn is good yes?, thirsty lesbians in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 05:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15575139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim/pseuds/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim
Summary: After a night of dancing, Ada very nearly has the perfect ending. But life is never perfect.Week 7/8 in the Hackle Summer Trope Challenge.





	Keep Me in Your Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Set immediately after "Yule Thank Me Later", so even if you want to be a rebel and not read this series in order, you should at least take in that one before reading this one.
> 
> Also, the title comes from the song "Keep Me" by the Seratones, which so perfectly captures Hackle in ways I can't describe, so just go give it a listen.

Ada could have happily danced all night, enjoying every shift of Hecate’s movements, every smile, every breath. But there was a real world awaiting them, outside this magical little bubble that Hecate had created, and they still had lives and responsibilities to fulfill.

So once the record had finished (or rather, once they’d actually stopped gazing at each other with starry eyes long enough to realized it had finished), they’d regretfully acknowledged that soon it would be time to usher the girls through the usual lights-out routine, which meant dancing had to come to an end.

“But perhaps,” Ada ventured, her thumb rubbing the smooth skin on the back of Hecate’s hand. “We can have one last waltz, after the girls are in bed.”

Hecate’s dark eyes said that she’d like that very, very much, but her lips merely said, “An excellent idea, Miss Cackle.”

Ada was grinning madly again as they slipped into the hallway, enjoying the walk from the potions lab to the headmistress’ office, where they knew Dimity would come for them, once everyone had returned from the snowball fight that she and Circe had organized on the front lawn. They walked as they did through the gardens—arm in arm, with Hecate’s other hand coming to rest on Ada’s forearm. However, instead of gently rubbing Ada's arm in the comforting, almost thoughtless way that she usually did, Hecate was dragging her jet-black nails along the woven designs in Ada’s sweater sleeve, light and affectionate. Still, she seemed completely unaware of what her actions did to her headmistress, whose chest tightened as her lungs continually failed with each slow pull against her skin.

She was so overcome that apparently her reaction time was thrown off as well—Circe’s traveling companion, a wild hare, darted across the corridor, slipping under Ada’s feet before she had a chance to even realize what was happening. Then she was falling, tumbling to the hard stone floor with a yelp of surprise.

“Ada!” One would think she’d plummeted from the castle tower, the way Hecate reacted. The younger witch was on her knees, hands delicately ghosting over Ada with searching concern. “Oh, Ada, are you alright?”

“I think my pride took the greatest injury,” she admitted with a slightly breathless laugh of self-effacement. However, when she shifted again, the stabbing pain in her ankle made her reconsider that statement, “Though it seems my ankle is a close contender.”

Hecate was immediately pulling her into a sitting position, shuffling so that she could pull Ada’s foot into her lap. She bent her head, concentrating on the injured area as her fingers gingerly pressed into Ada’s skin, trying to detect the extent of the damage. Ada had to admit, despite the searing pain, that this wasn’t an entirely bad development. She loved this angle of Hecate’s face as it tilted downward, one she didn’t get to see nearly enough—long dark lashes casting shadows on her pale cheeks, the line of her pristine nose, the sharper definition of her perfectly painted lips.

Goodness, she loved that shade of lipstick. She’d love to see it smudged, even more. Ada silently berated herself for her thoughts, especially when Hecate was busy trying to save her.

“Well, the good news is you’ll live,” her deputy intoned dryly, gaze still focused on the ankle.

“Little miracles,” Ada returned easily.

“The bad news is that you did sprain it quite thoroughly,” Hecate looked up.

“I guessed as much,” Ada agreed with a nod, biting her lip. Hecate’s hands were still lightly caging her ankle, warm and weighted.

Hecate looked down again, seeming flustered. Then, Ada felt the fizzing in her ankle, the warmth seeping up her calf muscle—Hecate was healing her, with magic.

“Hecate, it’s not serious enough for—”

“Ada, you shall not miss your Yuletide festivities due to a bad ankle,” Hecate returned quickly, her tone brooking no refusals. Then, with one corner of her mouth quirking into a smug smirk, she added, “Besides, it’s too late, I’ve already done it.”

Oh, she certainly had. Hecate’s magic was zipping through Ada’s body like heat lightning, crackling against her skin in the most delicious ways. Ada gave a small sigh of relief when she moved her foot again and felt no pain whatsoever.

But Hecate still hadn’t released Ada’s ankle. In fact, her hands were straying, slightly, moving up and down again, just dancing up the line to Ada’s calf and retreating with loving hesitancy. Hecate’s brows quirked downward, as if holding some deep internal debate.

“Hecate,” Ada’s tone held a touch of warning—they’d just talked about this, about their mutual need to communicate better. “Hecate, tell me what you’re thinking.”

Those dark eyes flicked back up to meet her, like a guilty child. “It—it isn’t proper, my thought right now.”

 _Thought_. Singular. One. All consuming. Ada swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. By some miracle, she had the presence of mind to return, “Then you _absolutely_ should tell me.”

Normally, Hecate would smile at her quip, but she was too busy focusing on Ada’s lips, with the kind of single-minded intent that made Ada quiver. Slowly, she removed Ada’s foot from her lap and crawled forward, eyes never leaving Ada’s mouth, as if contained the great secret of the universe.

“I was thinking,” Hecate’s breathing hitched as she moved closer. “That I would very much like to kiss you, Ada Cackle.”

A completely unnecessary confession, but it still wrecked Ada, as surely as if she’d been told the most salacious thing she’d ever heard in her life.

Hecate was so close now, their noses just a whisper away, sharing the same breath. But she didn’t move in further—after all this time, after all this encouragement, she still wouldn’t cross this line without Ada’s express consent.

And oh, how her headmistress loved her for her old-fashioned ways, for her love-infused hesitancy, for her awkwardness that somehow became seduction and incited the most obscene reactions in Ada.

So Ada nodded, barely, her eyes also locked on Hecate’s mouth as she confessed, “I happened to be thinking the very same thing.”

Hecate blushed, giving as small breathless smile. And then she moved gloriously closer.

“Miss Cackle, Miss Cackle!” The main entrance of the castle shunted open and the clamoring cries of a dozen preteen girls filled the air.

And Hecate Hardbroom growled. Physically _growled_. The sound reverberated in Ada’s chest, immediately sinking lower with tantalizing delight—oh _that_ was a sound Ada needed to hear again, desire and frustration and something entirely _not_ Hecate’s usually perfectly-in-control self.

Her deputy quickly withdrew, rising to her feet and gently pulling Ada to hers. The girls rounded the corner, their faces stricken with panic.

“What is it?” Hecate’s mind was still too hazy with lust and frustration to fully note the fear radiating from the girls.

Just then, Dimity appeared. “HB, I’m sorry, I tried—”

“ _What is it?_ ” She repeated, this time her tone sharpened with dread and fear.

“It’s Circe. Someone—I don’t know—they took her! They just flew in and took her!”

**Author's Note:**

> Yep. I did that. Come back for "Into the Woods".


End file.
